


i'll be there for you

by cheapsushi



Category: Asagao Academy: Normal Boots Club
Genre: Angst, F/M, Hana is a good gf, Hurt/Comfort, I love Luke so much but boy is it fun to make him suffer, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Worth Issues, Suicidal Thoughts, vent fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-24
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-06 20:24:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,979
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16394489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cheapsushi/pseuds/cheapsushi
Summary: luke didn't even know when he started feeling this way.he did know what he wanted, though.he wanted to stop hurting. he wanted to know if his friends were real. he wanted to have some sort of worth so then he could feel better about himself instead of feeling selfish for thinking about him and his stupid problems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> 4/13/19 EDIT: hey, okay, looking back on this, i just wanted to say that i think im okay now. i wrote this when i wasn’t really in a good place; my emotionally manipulative step mom was still with us, i was cooped up in my room most days, and i felt the only way i could really be ‘enough’ was if i stretched myself thin for others. it hurt. 
> 
> but things are better now. my dad and his ex-wife are now divorced, she moved out, and i finally feel like i can be a little selfish without guilt. 
> 
> im not deleting this or anything, i hope i can look back on this in the future and see how far ive come. 
> 
> i love you guys. take care of yourselves. <3
> 
> ———————
> 
> hey howdy back at it again with the angst. this is 100% a vent fic and it's kind of inspired by "how i think of myself" and "i'll be there for you", both by luke.
> 
> also im really sorry but chapter six of fireworks and fairy lights probably won't be out until a week into november or so, so im genuinely sorry. 
> 
> anyway i hope you enjoy this garbage dump of emotion byeee

Luke didn’t even know when he started feeling this way. He didn’t know what changed in him or what it really stemmed from, but what he did know was that it’s been at least several months since the beginning.

This feeling, it was... indescribable, even for Luke’s capacity of words. It was numbingly empty, but at the same time overwhelmingly vivid.

It was just little feelings at first; discontent with his work, little rushes of panic whenever he would embarrass himself in front of his peers. Nothing that really should’ve taken over his life.

But somehow, the feeling sort of twisted into something more. Nothing he did was good enough for him anymore. Doubts in himself clouded his thoughts and it was getting harder and harder to breathe.

And over time this feeling grew and grew and grew, and he never told anyone how cluttered his mind was. No one really knew how hard it was for him to sleep at night, and no one really knew about all his insecurities and his worries and his fears. He never told anybody, because why should anyone care?

The feelings got even worse when he realized what he was thinking about.

_He was thinking about himself._

Luke’s mind screamed at him to stop being so self centered, to stop being a drama queen, to stop being so selfish and to suck it up and get over himself. He never told anyone because Luke’s mind told him that _getting help is the most selfish thing you can do for yourself._

So he never did. The pain continued. Discontent and worry turned into despondency and anxiety.

_No one really cares about you. They put up with you because they pity you. Nothing would change if you weren’t here. Your friends aren’t real. They won’t care. They wouldn’t care. They don’t care._

_You are on your own._

No one knew about his toxic mind. Hell, he didn’t know why Ian never stopped to ask him why he was acting funny ever, and they were constantly ten feet apart in the same room. Maybe he hadn’t thought to take notice. That must’ve been it. But even then, Luke didn’t know how Ian couldn’t have.

Even more peculiar, he didn’t know how Ian hadn’t noticed the scars.

The first time, Ian was out with a friend or whatever, Luke didn’t even care at this point. Ian was just being convenient now.

Luke knew that he was being selfish, to continually only think about himself and his problems and how he should get help.

But he never did reach out. So, to help himself in the least selfish way possible, he traced neat, narrow rows onto his pale wrists. His tired eyes watched bleeding scarlet drops swell on his skin, fitting right in with the freckles.

Finally, he was satisfied with himself.

He knew it didn’t make sense, but he also knew that he wasn’t enough for himself, his friends, and for everything else. He didn’t deserve to feel happy. He knew he shouldn’t have hurt himself, that he should stop this and get help before he was too far gone.

But Luke didn’t care anymore. As long as no one knew, nothing would change. His friends would be the same and so would Luke, in his own separate comfort.

He continued to routinely cut himself. The knife drew deeper and the wounds spread, up his arms and through his head.

The weeks passed. Several lonely, painful weeks.

It wasn’t until he had made plans before someone found out.

Hana.

His wonderful, stunning, perfect girl. She had no clue. She always assumed he was cooped up in his room because he was working on his latest song or playing video games.

_just the happy things_.

She never questioned why he always wore long sleeves around her.

_he loves those shirts._

She never stopped to think why it was that he looked more tired each day and why it seemed like each smile was more and more forced as time passed.

_he wasn’t a child, he could take care of himself_.

But then she saw the letters in his desk.

They were working on a stupid project for Shizuka together in his dorm alone. After a few minutes, he jumped and ran out the door and down the hall after telling her to grab something from his drawer while he went to grab markers from Jimmy’s room.

Hana didn’t exactly know which one he meant, so she started with the bottom left one. After a minute of sifting through a bunch of junk, (She made a mental note to remind her boyfriend to clean up, his side of the room was extremely messy), right at the very bottom a stack of crumpled envelopes caught her eye. Pulling them all out from beneath the clutter, she noticed they were all addressed to her fellow Hidden Block members.

Jeff. Wallid. Caddy. Jimmy. Ian.

And her.

Strangely enough, Hana’s envelope was the only one that wasn’t sealed, so she took it out and read it. It was addressed to her, after all.

She immediately regretted everything.

_this isn’t okay what was she reading was he okay how long has he felt like this what was he doing to himself what was he going to do to himself this isn’t okay was he getting help what should she do this isn’t okay how hadn’t she known she should have known is he going to be o k a y_

Seconds later, Luke busted through the door in a dramatic showtune voice, displaying his newly found supplies. Everything was fine.

That is, until he saw his girlfriend with his note in her hand.

Panic. That was all he could think about. Panic. Sheer panic.

_how much had she read you idiot you never should have written that letter stupid stupid stupid she hates you now you have nothing you screwup you don’t deserve to feel happy who are you and what are you doing for the world no one really loves you no one really cares no one really wants you here so please go do them a favor and d e l e t e yourself from their lives_

Luke was frozen like a deer in headlights. Hana made cautious steps towards him, as if he would break at the sight of sudden movements. Softly, she took his hand in both of hers, twisting it over so his wrist was upright.

With teary eyes, he shakily pulled up the sleeve himself.

Dozens of scars. That’s all that she could see. Some were drawn with care, parallel and neat, while others were misshapen and dug deeper than the careful ones.

To Hana, they all blended together.

There were dozens. Dozens of times he felt alone, dozens of times he felt unimportant, dozens of times he wanted the pain to end, but he couldn’t let go because that would’ve been selfish.

That was all that Hana saw.

Tearing the letter in two a moment later, she hugged Luke harder than she had ever hugged before. Hana noticed he hesitated to hug her back, but as soon as he did she felt him bury his face into the top of her head, vaguely muffling his sniffles.

She pulled back minutes later (it felt more like hours), looking up to his red, puffy eyes. He led her to a seat on the edge of his bed, and he explained everything. His fears, his worries, his insecurities, his self-loathing, his ‘selfishness’ and his crippling, destructive thoughts. After all, it was everything she deserved to know. And Hana understood. She didn’t speak, but instead gently placed his hat to the side and combed his hair with her hands, his head leaning onto her shoulder.

Before they knew it, Luke had been talking for much longer than an hour, his monologue filled with hesitant pauses and little, broken chuckles, even if the topic wasn’t really a laugh-a-thon.

When he finished his story an eternity later, Hana immediately shifted herself around and pulled her tearful boyfriend into a tender embrace. He hugged back on impulse this time, feeling comfort for the first time in a long time.

They sat there, tears silently streaming down their faces, not saying a word because what could be said?

He would never say it out loud, but Luke needed her. Hana told him all of the things that he worried he would never hear-

_“Luke, you are loved, so very loved. You are important and valued and cared for. Please, always remember that. If you ever doubt yourself again, just please remember-_

_I’ll be right here. You’re not alone, I promise. I’ll be there for you.”_

A long while later after dozens of gentle kisses and dozens of endearing words, Hana felt Luke slowly droop in her arms, a sign that he was peacefully asleep. With the freshness of a blank, new day, she laid him down and sank down beside him, pulling the blankets over top of them.

Hana knew that Luke wasn’t okay, and that he hadn’t been okay for a while. But she had a feeling it would all work out. He would get better, and Hana would make sure of it.

The only thing preventing him was the false thought that he would never be loved.

He was hurting, and all she knew how to do was love.

And Hana loved Luke more than everything else.

 

Two months later, things were finally looking up for Luke. He started going to therapy, and vented all of his emotions healthily instead of locking them in, hoping no one would notice.

He finally felt truly and immensely _happy_ , not this fake happy that he constructed and convinced himself was real.

Yes, there was always the rare occasion where he felt dark, when his previous doubts resurfaced to try and drag him down again, but Hana would always be at his side every time.

He really didn’t think he deserved someone like her.

He still remembered what Hana told him the night she found his note.

_“I’ll be there for you.”_

Luke couldn’t even begin to describe how much this simple phrase helped him recover, how it helped him realize that everything’s not lost, that he would never be alone. He wanted to help others who felt like he did- alone, with no where to go and no one to turn to. He never wanted anyone else to feel worthless and without a reason to continue, because he knew what that felt like, and honestly it sucked.

He didn’t really know how to help people though. Like his feelings, he honestly sucked at that, too.

So, he did the one thing he knew how to do.

He wrote a song.


	2. bonus chapter ahoy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> what hana read that changed the whole course of her and his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't want to abandon this fic just yet, so i present you with luke's suicide note because im a horrible person! :D
> 
> it's kind of craptastic but i legit cried while writing the last few paragraphs sooooo *shrug*
> 
> anyway read and cry with me bye

My dearest Hana Mizuno,

I don’t even know where to start. Well, might as well get to the elephant in the room, shall we?

If you’re reading this, I’m probably dead. 

Shocker, right? “Wow, look, another dead dude, seeking attention.” But that’s not really the case. Not at all. 

Look, I just want you to know right off the bat that this is not your fault, nor is it anyone else’s. It’s hard to explain, but I’m going to try and do the impossible. 

I know I’m not okay, as I’m writing this letter, and I haven’t been okay for a while. Probably since the beginning of the school year, that’s my best guesstimate. It wasn’t until a while later that I noticed that my mood had taken a dramatic swing, though, like an awry baseball bat. Out of the blue in sudden bursts, I’d just get these random ‘flashes’ of negativity for literally no reason, even if nothing remotely bad was happening in the moment. It’s so weird to think about; I had nothing to get upset over, but yet here I am. 

Slowly but surely, these little ‘flashes’ spiraled way out of control, and I never told anyone. Looking back on it, I don’t even have a clue on why I never got help. Was it for pride? Paranoia? Or was it something much more toxic and complex? 

I’ll be the first to admit that I had... doubts. When I say this, I mean doubts in myself, like I’m not good enough or not smart enough or not creative enough, whatever, whatever, the list goes on. 

And suddenly, these doubts grew into insecurities. When we started dating, you had me breathless. I saw how beautiful, caring, kind, understanding, and perfect you were in an instant, even from the first words you spoke to me. But what was I? Even when we were just barely getting together, I convinced myself that you were only my girlfriend because you pitied me. 

That couldn’t have been true, could it?

Does it even matter by now?

It wasn’t just with you, though, I wasn’t enough for all the other guys either. I wasn’t smart like Wallid or carefree like Jeff or funny like Jimmy or like anyone else. 

I. Wasn’t. Enough. 

I wasn’t enough for food. I wasn’t enough for water. I didn’t deserve sleep. I didn’t deserve the little bit of happiness I found in your comfort. I wasn’t enough then, and now I’ll never be. 

These thoughts got to be too much to handle. My head constantly ached and I felt like I was suffocating in my own mind. Weird, huh? I didn't know how to shake them, I tried almost everything to ease my mind, even if it was just for a little bit of time.

Nothing worked. 

So I cut myself. Bluntly stated, because it’s not something I can just dance to like a song. It was almost routine, every time Ian was out or you and I weren’t hanging out together, I cut myself. It was as if I was only enough if I filled the empty space I was with pain. 

And, in a twisted sort of way, I was satisfied. I convinced myself I was finally enough. I convinced myself I was happy. And that wasn’t healthy. 

The past few months, I’ve been thinking a lot. A whole lot. And that was so selfish. It was the most selfish thing I’ve ever done and I hate it and I wish I could take back every single thought. Wanna know what I was thinking of?

I was thinking about myself. God, I was such an idiot, wasn’t I? Constantly thinking about me and my stupid problems, how my life would be better if I just got up and said: “Hey, my life is kind of sucky right now, can someone throw me a life raft?” 

Wow, look, I’m doing it again. Talking about myself, like some stuck-up celebrity with nothing better to do than obsess over every little detail in themself. 

So that brings me to now. I don’t know when this letter is going to get to you, but I know it will. Someday. It might be days, it might be weeks, or if I’m lucky, months. 

...Isn’t time such a strange concept, Hana? For a normal person, each second is an opportunity for something grand. For a normal person, each new day might be a new start, a stepping stone to their destiny. But not for me. 

Each second of my life was wasted. Each new day was a stepping stone leading me to here. 

Here is where I’m not enough. 

I can’t do this anymore. I can’t live in constant guilt. I can’t feel like this anymore, not without hating every fiber of my being while doing it. Every morning, I want to wake up happy. I want to leave this behind. I want to go back to the times where I wasn’t suicidal. I want my scars to fade away. I want to feel important and needed and wanted. 

But we can’t get everything that we want. 

 

Can we?

 

No, we can’t. 

This note is getting too long. Ian will be back soon, and I don’t want to lose my train of thought. I’ve gotten this far, but I can’t go any further. 

Hana, I never told you this, and the last thing I want to do is to let you know this after I’m already gone, but you need to know. 

I love you. I always have. I love you so much more than everything else. I love you more than the moon and the stars and the earth itself. I love your little smiles, your bright eyes, your gentle kisses and your beautiful everything. I love the way you call me ‘Stringbean’ and ‘Noodle Leg’ and the way you get so mad at me when I retaliate with ‘Cotton Candy Queen’ and ‘Shortstack’. I love the way you laughed after I hit my head on the door frame that one time and the way your expressions are so real and genuine and how you made my expressions the same. I love the way you make me smile. I love the way you know everything about me, my favorite color, my favorite food, my embarrassing stories and my dumb feelings. 

I love you for bringing me this far. 

You inspired me, you gave me a little bit of hope, you made me feel so happy to be alive. 

You were my everything. 

But nothing lasts forever. 

Not even us. 

It wasn’t your fault, it never was, and it never will be. This is all on me. I need to do this for myself. 

I hope there is a Heaven, and, God be kind, we will see each other again. Don’t be sad after I leave, just smile at the good times we shared. For me. 

Please, remember me, in our stories and in my songs. Know that I always love you. Always. 

I love you so much more than you could ever know. 

-Luke Sizemore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey it's me again
> 
> gosh i just realized i kind of have a flowertown obsession so im really sorry for that, just tell me to stop and i will lol

**Author's Note:**

> if you've read this far, thank you. this is hugely a very personal fic, and if you're feeling like me (or in this case like luke), i just want you to know that you're never alone. there will always be people who care about you, and i know it sounds hella cliche but it's the truth. please don't ever feel like you shouldn't get help because there are other people who need it more than you because you deserve to feel safe and loved. ive been in that position before and lemme tell you it was the worst couple months of my life. 
> 
> oof, this ramble is going on too long. i guess what im trying to say is that you aren't alone. don't ever forget that. <3
> 
> -a_literal_mess
> 
> National Suicide Prevention Hotline (USA)  
> 1-800-273-8255


End file.
